Bedlam

by M. T. Miller

  Lydia’s eyes widened at the sight. “How can you be sure?”

  “I am a god,” he said. “No further explanation is needed.”

  A deadly silence followed, during which Lydia seemed more angry than terrified.

  Tarantula ended it. “Do you need additional counsel, my Lord?”

  “No,” said the Nameless. “Unless you can see the future.”

  “I’ve broken the pattern,” she said. “When I intervene, I—“

  “You become blind for a time,” he said. “I know.”

  “Exactly,” she said, pleased with his familiarity.

  “Lydia,” the Nameless said. “I want you to gather four volunteers for a meeting with the Juicers. Can I rely on you for that?”

  The muscles in Lydia’s face relaxed somewhat. “You can, my Lord. But you might want to ask your other general for that.”

  “I do not want Wallace to do it. I want you to do it. Is that understood?”

  “It is,” she said after a moment of consideration. “Are we free to go?”

  “Yes,” said the Nameless. Lydia’s choice might not be optimal, but her loyalty seemed genuine. Whoever she picks is unlikely to stab me in the back.

  “Problems?” Tarantula asked once Lydia was gone.

  “Not the kind you think,” the Nameless said as he went for the exit. Not turning around for another glimpse of the goddess was not easy.

  ***

  The men Lydia chose were pretty good. Likely not the best, but the Nameless hoped it would not matter. He had been living with Rush for a year. If anyone could make her see reason, it was him. Assuming it even is her.

  “Your names, soldiers,” he said, standing some ten feet away from the four men. He had ordered them brought to the flag, the very same place where he’d executed Azarian. While excessive cruelty was out of the question, he would still make use of their fear. If their morale had been shaken by his “recent” behavior, the threat of violence would reinforce it like little else would.

  “Tomas de Silva, my Lord!” the leftmost man said. His name rang a bell, but the Nameless found it difficult to remember from where.

  “Gregory Baker, Lord!” the burly former Skull said. Him, the Nameless recognized. They’d trained together when he was undercover as a Skull inductee.

  Do you remember me killing you? The Nameless wanted to ask, but left it for another time.

  “Mark Wallace!” the third man said.

  Eagle, the Nameless thought, remembering the old Cleanup Crew. This man, along with others. was supposed to be his brother in arms, but that dream died long ago. I wonder if Divine is still alive in that place I left her.

  “You are the general’s son, yes?” the Nameless asked.

  “No, my Lord,” Mark said despite the physical similarity. He smiled slightly. “I wish I was, though. Might help me live longer.”

  Everyone but the Nameless chuckled. I wish that were true.

  The rightmost man was another former Skull, although he hadn’t shaved his head. In fact, the man’s hair went past regulation length, assuming Babylon even enforced that rule.

  “Franklyn Myers, my Lord,” he said in a familiar voice. A long time had passed since the Nameless heard it, but it instantly rang a bell. This time, he wasn’t hiding amongst the populace after leaving his old gang.

  Another returnee from death. He would fit right in.

  How many others were resurrected? Perhaps the Grin festered somewhere in the army’s ranks. Maybe Horace was on some street corner far away, begging for money. Could it be that the nameless girl who’d ended her life in Babylon’s slums was again forced to work for Contrast? The questions kept piling up.

  What am I doing? the Nameless wondered as he prepared to speak. He had no plan, no contingencies, and there was no way of knowing if he was given correct information. For all he knew, he was about to lead these men to their deaths.

  They are already dead, he reminded himself, and immediately regretted going down that mental path. If these men were no longer alive, then what did that make Rush? He didn’t give himself a chance to think about it further. The prospect of seeing her was all he had left. If he were denied that, there was no telling what he would do.

  “I presume you all know why you are here,” he said.

  The men nodded.

  “In acquiring power,” the Nameless said, “I have sacrificed parts of my memory. Thus, it will be your job to take me to the Spine and help me find its center. Do this, and I guarantee rewards. Any question?”

  Mark Wallace raised a hand.

  “Speak.”

  “My Lord, I would follow you into hell and back,” Mark said. “But are you certain this is a smart move?” He looked around, then continued. “I think I speak for everyone, though some wouldn’t agree out loud. You even admit it: You’ve lost pieces of yourself. Maybe we should give it time, is all I’m saying.”

  The other three stared at him as if he were about to die.

  The Nameless approached Mark silently. He put his hand on his shoulder. The man’s muscles tightened, but he stood his ground.

  “Mark,” the Nameless said, “you are now second in command of this expedition.”

  Mark’s expression turned to one of surprise. “Thank you, my Lord.”

  “Any more questions?” the Nameless asked, stepping back.

  The men were silent.

  “You are dismissed, then.” The Nameless started walking away. “Eat well and rest. We ride at dawn!”

  “Yes, my Lord!” they shouted in unison.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next day, they set off with the morning sun. The first few hours the air was cool, and the Nameless was free to let his thoughts wander. Alongside his recent trend of questioning reality, he found himself thinking more and more about last night, and Lydia’s attitude before she went to bed. Having given him the usual offer of sex, she didn’t even blink at his rejection. Instead, she’d turned around, taken one of their blankets, and seemingly fallen asleep. In all likelihood, she thinks I have gone mad.

  The initially pleasant morning soon turned into a fiery inferno. As the sun neared its zenith, the experience become less of a trip and more of an ordeal. Sweating profusely, the Nameless silently cursed the black color of his uniform. The other men were probably thinking the same thing, even though they wouldn’t dare say it.

  “How soon do we reach this Spine?” He tasted the salt of his sweat as he spoke.

  “Maybe some eight hours, my Lord,” Mark said. He rode at the Nameless’ right. “At least that’s where it becomes visible. Plenty more to go afterward.”

  Now that they were away from the camp, the Nameless wasn’t hesitant in asking questions. Even if these men were prone to gossip, there was no one here they could complain to. If they were dissatisfied that a mad god had made them take him to a place he knew nothing about, they would keep it to themselves, at least for the time being.

  “Tell me about it,” he said.

  If Mark’s expression changed, the Nameless didn’t notice it. All five of them had a permanent look of discomfort. “There’s not really much to tell, my Lord. It’s a gigantic, multi-mile-long spine. Some two thirds in, it starts spreading in two more directions, forming a crooked “X.” These we call “wings.” That’s about all we, or anyone you could reasonably ask, would know.”

  A living thing? At that size? The desert’s brightness prevented the Nameless’ eyes from widening. “And there is nothing known about what it could have been? About how it died?”

  “Not that I’ve heard of,” Mark said.

  None of the men seemed to have anything to add. The Nameless chose not to press the issue. Even though they posed little danger to him, he would still be stuck in the open if he had to kill them.

  Moving on. “Has any one of you seen or met this Rush? This Purple Lightning?”

  Frank was to the only one to speak, and even he did it after a moment of contemplation. “I… I almost did, my Lor
d. It is not a pleasant story, and I don’t think it’ll do wonders for our morale, but I’ll share it if you really want to hear it.”

  “I really want to hear it,” the Nameless said in annoyance.

  “Well, it happened some time ago,” Frank hesitantly said. “Three years, I think. The Kingdom was still shooting up at that point, and wasn’t as powerful as it was when you took over, my Lord. Still, the Skull King had himself a brutal rep, and the other three big shots took notice.”

  Greg didn’t interrupt, but tilted his head slightly in Frank’s direction.

  “The Juicers,” Frank continued, “they were the first to react, you see. And the purple woman, she took our growth to heart. All the men, all the women they had, the whole insane lot, she uprooted and led straight toward us.

  “Now, back in the day, we couldn’t afford to meet them on the battlefield. Even if we won, we’d be out of the running and someone else would’ve swept us up afterward. And if we held up in the keep and forced them into a siege, we’d only keep stagnating. So the Skull King, he had himself an idea.”

  “The Dead Man’s Pass,” Greg said.

  Frank flinched. “Were you there?”

  “’Course I wasn’t,” Greg said. “Everyone who was is now dead.”

  “That I can confirm,” Frank said. “Everyone who obeyed their orders, anyway.”

  “So you’re a deserter,” Greg snorted.

  “A proud one,” Frank said.

  “Stop,” said the Nameless. “Explain this to me. Slowly.”

  “This trash left his post,” Greg said, “and everyone who defended it got massacred. Every single one.”

  “It was a suicide mission to begin with!” Frank growled. “’Go there and die!’ That’s basically what we were sent there to do!”

  “And why didn’t you?” Greg asked. “What the King—the Lord says, we do!”

  “Shit like that, I’m leaving to people like you!” said Frank. “I accepted these carvings so I’d be able to lead a better life; not to die for the man who gave them to me.” He turned to the Nameless. “My Lord, this thing, my service to you, it’s not the same as it was with the King. He—“

  “He gave you a place in his plans,” Greg interrupted again,” and you fucked it up!”

  The Nameless’ eyebrows practically merged. “None of this counts as explanation, and it is definitely not slow.”

  Frank took a swig from his water skin. Judging by his look, he would need it. “Put simply, my Lord, the Skull King sent us to halt the Juicers’ advance. We were to push them back while waiting for further orders, only those orders never came.”

  “And what did he do in the meantime?” the Nameless asked.

  “He did what a ruler should do!” Greg shouted. “He conquered! He took the majority of his—of our force, and had us push deep into Movement territory. Sure, the Juicers got a piece of us, but we got a whole lot more!”

  A simple gambit. But an effective one. “What happened to the civilians you had left behind?”

  “Dead to the last man, woman, and child,” Frank said. “Dead because the man who was supposed to protect them cared more about power than their lives.”

  This time, Greg had nothing to say. He kept riding silently as he stared away toward the horizon.

  “So there you have it,” Frank said. “The purple woman and her Juicers raped, pillaged, and tormented tens of thousands. And when there was nothing more to take, they just picked up and left, leaving the bodies to rot in the sun!” He swallowed. “This is who we’re off to meet, my Lord.”

  “And I am riding with a deserter,” the Nameless said. “Tell me, Frank, what guarantee do I have that you will not, say, abandon your post tonight?”

  “A while ago,” Frank said, “back when you first appeared, me and my men were still working as a mercenary company. After we heard what you did to the Skull King, we joined you of our own will. ‘This guy,’ I said, ‘he got his shit together.’”

  “But I no longer ‘have my shit together,’” said the Nameless.

  “Maybe,” Frank said, “but you’ve got a new trick or two.” He may or may not have tried to smile. “Regardless, my point is that it’s not all about whether we live or die. Sometimes it’s about the right idea. And leaving your people behind to die horrible deaths is never the right idea, my Lord. So as long as the point of this meeting is for us to avoid more bloodshed, you’ll be able to count on me.”

  Similar to, yet different from the Frank I knew. “Good,” the Nameless said as he looked back to Mark. “One more question. Have you ever heard of a gun?”

  “You mean a cannon, my Lord?”

  No. No, I do not, the Nameless thought.

  “Yes. I am done with questions,” he said.

  ***

  When they stopped to eat, the Spine was visible in the distance. Still little more than an uneven jumble of curved white protrusions, it was nevertheless a sign of things to come.

  Greg and Tomas set up the mini-tent while Frank prepared everything else. Mark supervised the whole thing. The Nameless did little but stare into the distance, his rational mind busy with stopping his inner animal from screaming.

  He had heard (and seen) worse, but Frank’s story nevertheless struck a chord with him. Rush was always callous, but the cruelty he spoke of was something not even the Boneslinger would allow. For now, he would consider it just that—a cautionary tale. At least until his senses convinced him otherwise.

  “My Lord,” Mark said after an indeterminate amount of time. “If you will…”

  The Nameless turned to face him, noticing that the temporary camp was completely set up. Huddling in the shade, the three other men eagerly waited for the meal to commence. The Nameless didn’t have much of an appetite, but joined them nonetheless.

  Initially, they ate to the sound of silence. The Nameless would change that.

  “Mark,” he said after swallowing a bite of jerky, “how did you end up in this unit?”

  Mark stopped eating. His seemed distressed. “It’s in my file, my Lord.”

  “I do not have your file with me right now,” said the Nameless. “So you will have to tell me.”

  “I…” Mark lowered his piece of meat into the metal bowl before him. “I was a criminal, my Lord. I was given a choice: rot in prison or redeem myself in the army.” He smiled awkwardly. “Guess my choice is obvious.”

  “What was your crime?”

  “Vigilantism,” Mark said. “I took the law in my own hands, my Lord. Back then, Babylon had a real problem with… scum.” The way he pronounced the word made the old Mark come to life. “Someone had to do something, or so I thought. The law disagreed. Now I get to kill people legally, though, so that problem’s solved.”

  The Nameless turned to Greg without acknowledging Mark’s joke. “What about you? I reckon you were a Skull… Kingdom loyalist up until the end.”

  What passed for Greg’s expression communicated pride. “I was, my Lord. Me and the Charred Bone Company, we rejected integration into the Nameless Army. But instead of fleeing like cowards, we took hold of the Tibia keep and held it for three weeks!”

  Mark and Tomas’ faces went sour. “That cost us a lot of good men,” the latter said.

  “And it should’ve cost us our lives!” Greg roared. “But after you barely, and I do mean barely took it from us, our good Lord,” he looked the Nameless in the eyes, “decided we were better off in his service. And here I am, at your command. My Lord.”

  The Nameless was now facing Tomas. His mind was on the verge of telling him who the man was, but wasn’t over that threshold yet.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “And I do not mean your name. Why were you chosen for this task?”

  “I am just a soldier, my Lord,” Tomas said. “I have experience in urban and rural combat, and have seen a lot of, pardon the expression, shit.”

  Greg interrupted, “Yeah, I thought I’d seen you from before. You were at Tibia, right? The squad that le
d the last charge, I think.”

  “Right beside our Lord,” Tomas said. “Near everyone else got mowed down in the advance. Everyone but a handful of us, and one god.” He broke off a piece of jerky and held it near his mouth. “Still, we proved sufficient to end that insanity. If anyone told me I’d be eating alongside one of those madmen, I’d have cut his head off.”

  “Strange fate,” the Nameless said coldly. He wanted to say more, but stopped himself. What little integrity he had, he needed to keep. Apologies would come later. Assuming later ever came. Still, he had learned things.

  Everything changes as much as it stays the same. He smiled faintly. The fact gave him hope. The details were different, but these three men (and presumably Tomas) were still in essence who they were in his memory. Hopefully this was one pattern Rush would follow.

  They set off within the hour. As the day slowly turned to night, the Spine became more than a mildly upsetting sight in the distance. Under the light of the moon, the whites became whiter, the protrusions sharper, and the bone formation revealed more and more of its grotesque splendor.

  Being hollow, the spinal canal was wide enough for ten men to ride all the way through. Every fifty feet or so, one vertebra ended and another began. The marrow, discs, and cord were gone, leaving just enough space for a horse to slip in and out of the Spine. This unsettled Nameless more than the sight of it. It opened the possibility of an ambush. Luckily, an attack like that would not come fast, and the Nameless’ team was mounted. In the game of retreat, they had the upper hand.

  “We should rest here,” Greg suddenly said as he pointed to a vertebra on his right.

  “We are still far from the point,” said Mark. “And the meeting is tomorrow at noon.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m suggesting this,” Greg said. “Think about it. They either want to talk to us, or they don’t. And if they don’t, I sure as hell don’t wanna sleep where they can see me!”

  Everyone turned to the Nameless. He silently fumed at not having thought of it.